


Weak

by writesometimes



Series: Strange Desire [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash, Some Fluff, wound care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 20:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7589677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writesometimes/pseuds/writesometimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flint looked up and met Silver's gaze. This time the concern stayed. The mask of the most fearsome pirate of the "new world" seemed to be temporarily discarded. Silver decided to return Flint's authenticity with his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weak

**Author's Note:**

> Set shortly after 3x10

It had been a few weeks since Flint and his crew had joined forces with the Maroon people to fight off the British. Repair work to structures in the settlement and to the barricades on the beach were still on-going. The dead had been mourned and laid to rest. And John Silver had worked tirelessly through it all at Captain Flint's side.

Despite his best efforts to hide his worsening pain, Silver knew people were starting to take notice. A pitied glance when he would struggle to stand. A steadying arm offered when he faltered in the sand. To anyone else they would have perhaps been welcomed gestures, signs people cared about their well-being. To Silver they were merely a reminder he was a burden, easily replaced. So he soldiered on through the pain, trying to prove he still held value.

It was a particularly bad fall that finally did him in. He was trying to help his brothers unload some ammunition from the _Walrus_. He stood on the beach at the end of a line of men passing the crates from the ship to the beach. All it took was twisting his body too far to take the next crate. Excruciating pain shot up his leg from his stump, spreading through his body instantly. His vision blurred then whited-out completely. He dropped the crate of ammunition and fell to the sand.

All at once men were surrounding him. They shouted for someone to fetch Flint and Madi. Silver's head swam. Even flat on his back in the warm sand with no pressure on his leg, the pain still radiated. Before he could fully and truly appreciate what had just happened, he was lifted off the beach and whisked away to a hut on the outskirts of the Maroon settlement.

He heard many voices but struggled to place faces to any of them. The men carrying him placed him as gently as they could onto a bed and headed out of the hut. Two figures entered as the other two left.

"What happened?" a man demanded gruffly.

There was no doubt that was Flint. Someone to Silver's left began explaining what happened on the beach.

"Tell the healers we will need more of the salves and balms we used on him before. And clean water and rags."

The voice was elegant and composed, yet commanding. It was surely Madi. Silver exhaled deeply knowing he would be in good hands and finally let his body succumb to the exhaustion the pain had caused.

****

When Silver awoke he felt a cool sensation on his stump. He opened his eyes and tried to sit up to see what was happening. A warm, freckled hand landed on his chest and pushed him back onto the bed.

"They said you should rest as much as possible," Flint said gruffly, never taking his eyes off the task at hand. He sat on a low stool next to the bed Silver was in, cleaning his stump gently. A clean cloth in hand, bucket of fresh water by his feet, the captain worked gingerly on his quartermaster.

"You don't have to do this. The healers here are quite able," Silver mumbled tiredly.

Flint stilled a moment. "I volunteered," he said dipping the cloth back into the bucket of fresh water before continuing his task.

Silver sighed deeply and stared up at the thatch ceiling of the hut. "Where am I?" he questioned.

Flint dropped the rag into the bucket and stood, finally turning to look at Silver. The man looked concerned, but the look faded as soon as it manifested. The hard, unforgiving mask of Captain Flint back in place. "I had them bring you to my personal hut. I figured you'd be more...comfortable...here," Flint explained with a shrug.

"Oh. Thank you," Silver said a bit stunned.

Flint walked off near the entrance to the hut and grabbed something off of a table. "Don't thank me just yet. I've been instructed to use this on your leg after I've washed it. They told me it will disinfect the wound but will be painful. They said they used it before on you."

Silver swallowed thickly and nodded.

Flint returned to the small stool by the bed, jar of salve in hand. "Ready?" he barked at Silver.

The quartermaster scowled but nodded firmly. Flint dipped his fingers into the jar and began spreading the substance on Silver's stump. Silver winced loudly and grasped the blankets beneath him forcefully.

"Will you be all right?" Flint grit out.

"I'll survive, I assure you. Although I'm not sure what good that'll actually do for you," Silver responded tensely.

Flint chuckled darkly and continued applying the salve.

Finally, after some minutes of silent concentration from the captain and silent winces from his quartermaster, Flint had applied all of the salve. Again he stood and made his way to the table near the entrance. "I was told to bandage it up after," he offered simply as he held up clean bandages for Silver to see.

"Could I at least sit up now?" Silver asked as Flint sunk back down onto the small stool.

"I suppose," Flint mumbled as he grabbed Silver's hand and helped him into an upright position.

Silver groaned as he stretched his arms out wide, trying to ease the rest of the muscles in his tired body.

"Why do you do this? Why do you push yourself to the brink? Repeatedly? Despite what you've been told?" Mild irritation laced the captain's words as he began dressing Silver's leg.

Silver stared down at him, unsure what tale to tell to appease his captain. Flint looked up and met Silver's gaze. This time the concern stayed. The mask of the most fearsome pirate of the "new world" seemed to be temporarily discarded. Silver decided to return Flint's authenticity with his own.

"I can't let my brothers see I am weak. They need to believe I am a strong and competent quartermaster. That they did they right thing giving me that title. I can't let the Maroon people think I am weak because I am often in the company of you and Madi. They can't think this partnership between their people and our crew is being tended to by a weak man. And I can't be weak for you. You need a strong quartermaster if you're going to be hell bent on destroying England," Silver admitted timidly.

Flint shook his head ruefully. "Do you really think anyone on this island is capable of believing you to be weak? After what you did for the crew? After everything you've done for the Maroon people? After devising a truly cunning plan to thwart Hornigold and prevent massive damage to the settlement here? Everything you've done since to help clean up and rebuild?" Flint tied off the bandage around Silver's stump and waited for an answer.

Silver drew his gaze from his new bandage to meet Flint's stare, but remained silent. Doubt shadowed his face. It was Flint's turn to sigh.

"I wouldn't have told you who I truly am if I believed you weak. I wouldn't have bared my soul to you and given you the power to destroy me if I didn't see you as an equal. You're probably the only person alive who knows James McGraw ever even existed. I allowed my memories of Thomas and Miranda to be shared by you, so they may live on with you in a way. So I would have a confidant, someone who would truly understand _why_ I will never surrender to England." Flint closed his eyes and rested his hands on either side of Silver's hips.

Silver sat silently with the gravity of the captain's words rendering him speechless. He opened his mouth, seemingly to protest, but Flint cut him off.

"How will anyone know your strength if you're dead?" he asked in a haunting whisper.

Silver swallowed thickly. Flint allowed his fingers to brush Silver's delicately.

"How will I carry on if the only man I trust is gone? The only man who knows it pains me to be a villain? The only man who knows James McGraw?"

Silver let his fingers dance with Flint's on the bed beside him. "You believe me your equal?" he breathed.

Flint took Silver's hand fully in his own. "Yes," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in all the world.

Once more Silver was silent.

"This must be truly revelatory to render _John Silver_ silent," Flint laughed.

A bark of laughter escaped Silver's throat. "I guess I'm not accustomed to genuine sincerity," he smiled slyly.

Flint cocked his head to the side and studied his quartermaster carefully. Silver squirmed under the scrutiny.

"You are welcome to rest here as long as you need. Any time you need," Flint offered, finally breaking the heavy silence.

Silver took a deep breath and brought his and Flint's joined hands to rest in his lap. "You know, that's a wonderful idea, seeing as I am lacking my own hut on the island at the moment," he said playfully.

The corner of Flint's mouth rose slyly, happy to hear the mischievous tone return to Silver. If he had to care for his quartermaster night and day for a week to prove just _how_ valued he was, Flint would do it gladly.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in the fandom, just something that wouldn't let me sleep until it was written. I hope it's not terribly OOC or terrible in general. I just really love these pirate nerds and had to write something about them ♥
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://imwritesometimes.tumblr.com/)


End file.
